


Sacrifice in the Sun

by vogue91



Category: Original Work
Genre: Curiosity, Devils, F/M, Falling In Love, Ireland, Priests, Sacrifice, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 10:37:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16638344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vogue91/pseuds/vogue91
Summary: He walked away from that glass prison to lay down on his bed. He had a migraine. It happened often, lately, and he knew the cause behind it.Briana Friel.That silly girl, a little more than a teen ager, was tormenting him.And for the first time in his life, he had met the slow agony of fear.





	Sacrifice in the Sun

 

The most evolved category in the world is also the stupidest one, Riordan thought.

Human beings were the most nonsensical thing he had ever seen in his life.

And he had lived long enough to be quite sure of what he meant.

He was closed in his room and was looking outside of the window, bored. Of all the places he had been sent to, Ireland was definitely the most evocative, but also the most suffocating.

People there pretended to always be cheerful, and yet he read in their eyes an ancestral fear, repressed, that their voices awkwardly tried to conceal.

He smiled thinking about how absurd his role there was. A messenger from the Netherworld, bearer of death, spawn of Evil itself, pretending to be a servant of the Enemy.

Perhaps God wasn’t as omniscient as he had wanted man to believe all those centuries.

He walked away from that glass prison to lay down on his bed. He had a migraine. It happened often, lately, and he knew the cause behind it.

Briana Friel.

That silly girl, a little more than a teen ager, was tormenting him.

And for the first time in his life, he had met the slow agony of fear.

He felt that this young redheaded, green-eyed girl, short and thin, _knew_. Or at least, she imagined.

How had she seen the blackness of his soul, Riordan couldn’t say. But her questions had gotten too invasive.

_Where do you come from? When were you born? How did you decide to become a priest?_

It couldn’t be mere curiosity. But, still, she couldn’t have seen him in action.

He had sacrificed only one soul since he had arrived in that forgotten village in southern Ireland, an old man who had mistakenly trusted him and followed him in the meanders of the forest. He still smelled his death on his hands. And he had made sure no one was around then.

But then, how had he been caught?

No, she didn’t know anything, he decided. She could sniff the danger, but she couldn’t see it. Why had she chosen despite everything to keep close to him, Riordan blamed it on her idiocy. There was no other explanation. And he refused to turn Briana into a problem.

 

~

 

Briana had never been a true catholic. On the contrary, she despised everything of that religion, which was seemingly more full of questions than answers.

But in her village, Skehana, the most forgotten part of the Connemara, her thesis was attacked by the most. All of them were enslaved to that institution called Church.

Briana had to admit it, going to mass on Sunday like her parents had forced her to since she was born, had presented a few interesting developments lately.

She had met him. He was perfect, in all those flaws his image flaunted.

His arrival had arose quite the uproar.

With those long, black hair, which seemed to shine in silver, those robes and that cape. It was a Hell of black sent in a world which was too white for him to live in it.

She remembered the first mass she had witnessed with him on the altar. And she definitely thought it had been her first actual mass.

Which had had very little of clerical in it.

He had spoken about everything but religion. But all of them, walking outside the church, had felt lighter.

Next Sunday, her parents had invited him to lunch. They had always tried to be in as close contact to the priests sent in Skehana as they could, but it was the first time Briana didn’t mind. At all.

 

_“Where have you worked until now, Father Behan?” my mother asks, her voice sugared. I blush. I hate how nice my parents always try to appear. The priest seems to notice my embarrassment and throws a quick smile at me before answering to my mother._

_“I’ve been for a few years in France, Marseille, Mrs. Friel.” he says, politely. She looks ecstatic, as if he had told her he comes straight from the Vatican._

_“And how did you end up in this barren wasteland?” she goes on, trying to sound funny._

_“I'm Irish by birth, and I had grown tired of France. I suppose they thought sending me to my homeland might’ve inspired me.” he explains, smiling in a way that made it look as a mockery and not a pleasant thought._

It had been there that Briana had realized there was something... weird with him. When he had said those last words, she had seen a reddish flash in his eyes; the instinct told her he was lying, but why do that?

Because of that, she had spent the past few weeks studying him. That man had become to her mystery and obsession, considering that the closer she got, the more he retreated inside his shell, becoming unreachable. His eyes turned off when they met her gaze, as if he was trying to hide his soul.

But, unfortunately for him, Briana had always liked challenges. Even a tad too much.

 

~

 

It was a sunny afternoon, a circumstance quite rare for the village, where fog and coldness used to reign. Briana walked down the street with her head held high, trying to take in as much as those rays as she could.

She was headed toward the small house that had been assigned to Riordan. By now she knew the road by heart, she knew the number of tiles on the sidewalk, how many trees skirted the street, which people she was going to meet, because she had learnt their rhythms and habits. ‘Maniacal’, the priest had called her when she had pointed that detail out to him.

But she didn’t care what he thought. Because, despite his qualms, he had never sent her away. He had always stayed there, if not talking to her, at least listening.

The first time she had been to his house, she had gotten fascinated by it.

 

_It’s a cold morning in March. Some remnants of dirty snow still whiten the top of the trees, threatening a cold I can't take anymore. I'm going to his place. I can't deny I'm taken by a vague apprehension._

_I don’t really know what to expect; the only thing I know for sure is that it’s going to surprise me, like everything concerning him._

_I knock on the door, and only when I hear the sound of my hand against the wood I realize that I'm shivering. He comes to the door and I'm left breathless._

_It makes me a weird effect to see him without his usual robes; he’s wearing a sweater and a pair of trousers, all rigorously black._

_His eyes, thin and dark, gaze through me and he doesn’t say a word. He looks confused. I told him I was going to come, that I meant to talk to him, but he looks surprised. I smile, ignoring his reaction._

_“Come inside.” he tells me, brushing a hand over his face. He must be tired, I blame his confusion to it. “Coffee?” he asks, and I nod, following him to the small living room and accepting the cup he hands me a short while later. “Sit. Did you say there was something you wanted to tell me?”_

_“Yes. There are a few things I’ve noticed, and that I wanted to discuss with you, Father.” he rolls his eyes and shakes his head._

_“Please. You can call me Riordan.” he smirks, thinking about something. “Even though I'm much older than I look.”_

An information that Briana had found cryptic, but she hadn't asked more questions that she had already set in her mind to.

 

~

 

She was there again; but Riordan knew she was going to come back. He saw in her the look of pure curiosity, and the one of a dazzled little girl, he arrogantly admitted to himself.

It wasn’t the first time it happened to him, for sure. Since he had taken control of that body, hundreds of years before, there had been too many women who had caved to the magnetism in his eyes, his face, the charisma he instilled.

But he had never quite felt like that. He was... doubting. Normally he would’ve had some fun with her and then would’ve killed her brutally, without thinking twice about it. He had done that countless times, in different ages, with the most different kinds of women.

He had known the carnal love of women in ancient Greece, the madness of more than a wife of Roman emperors, the craving for fun in Paris during the belle époque.

And now he found himself enchained in front of a village girl, in a time that knew very few true diversions, those that sated a man to his guts.

Why was she different??

He had started hating her for what she arose in him. He didn’t miss a chance to mock her, to make her feel crazy for the questions she asked, for the doubts she had. But still she came back, relentless.

That’s what he thought when he found her yet another time at his door.

“Aren't you tired yet?” he asked direct, without greeting her. She tilted her head and smiled.

“You know I won’t get tired of you. And after all, if I'm still here is because you didn’t send me away. Admit it, my attentions please you.” she said, sly.

Riordan cursed through his teeth. He wasn’t pleased, but much, much more. He was fascinated.

Briana was beautiful, but it was a beauty with nothing peculiar in it. He had met women far more pleasing to the eye than her. What attracted him, instead, was the way she seemed to understand him.

Because he had been through everything in his existence, but never had anyone noticed his rotten soul in the depths of his gaze.

She had seen it. She had sensed the danger, with her perception of a foolish human being, so close to an animal’s. And she hadn't escaped. That was what tormented him.

Since he had first met her he had been struggling with the desire to shake her, yell at her to run away, that he was the Evil, that once crossed the boundary there was no more saving herself.

But he hadn't; she wanted to take the risk, she wanted to put herself in the hands of Death, and there was no making her cave.

Not even if he had opened up, he was sure, she would’ve left. There was an invisible thread binding them.

“It annoys me, it paints a better picture.” he objected, forcing his face into a wince. It didn’t change her mood; she sat down, as if the house was hers too.

She had gotten familiar quickly with that place, so narrow and yet so alive.

She always said she liked it, that it gave her a feeling of blissed mysticism. It was one of the twisted reasoning Riordan had a hard time understanding.

He saw her walk around the small place, looking for details to help her comprehend, since she had long since resigned to the fact that she wasn’t going to gather information from him.

She headed toward the bedroom and he followed; her complete lack of shame bothered him greatly.

He heard her laugh and rushed to join her. When he walked into the room, he found a gun in her hands.

“Self-defence?” she asked ironical. He grinned.

“Not really. You know, it happens sometimes that I have to get rid of some annoying little girl.” he mocked her. She arched an eyebrow.

“Careful to what you say. It’s in my hands.” he turned it in her fingers, staring at it. “You’re a really weird priest, do you know that?” she pointed out.

“I never cared too much for being normal.” Riordan replied, enigmatic. Briana turned away, as if she hadn't heard his words. She headed to the window and grabbed the heavy crucifix from the sill. She put it down on the mattress, next to the gun.

“What’s the logical nexus between these two objects? Shouldn’t one exclude the other?” she asked. Riordan snorted.

“Of course. And where’s the logic when a parishioner vexes a priest?”

She burst out laughing.

“This isn't vexing. It’s just interest.” he clarified, getting closer. Once she was a few inches from him, she stopped. She raised an hand as if she meant to caress his face, but she seemed to change her mind. “Please, Riordan. I'm not sleeping at night. Tell me what it is you’re hiding.” she murmured.

“If I were to tell you who I am, you wouldn’t have time to elaborate. You’d be dead already.” he said, his voice halfway serious.

She didn’t flinch.

“I’ll risk it.” she replied, challenging.

Riordan clenched his eyes and moved abruptly toward her, pushing her against the wall.

“You don’t realize what you’re saying. You’re a spoilt little girl, convinced she can have everything she wants. You can't see the implications.” he hissed, getting even closer to her face.

Riordan couldn’t explain what had happened to him. He couldn’t hold back, all the barriers he had put up crumbled down in the split second it took Briana to bat her eyelashes, and it felt natural for him to fill what little space was there between them and press his lips on hers.

He grabbed her hips, pushing her harder against the wall, weaselling his way in every part of her body he managed to reach with his hands and his mouth. It looked as if he was devouring her more than kissing her.

He couldn’t pull away nor think straight. He, was used to control, was now controlled by an entity far viler which was slowly stripping away from him any common sense and any boundary he had ever put up between himself and the human world.

The minutes went by, and he finally found the strength to pull away. They were both breathless, Briana’s face was painted of an intense red. Riordan stared at her for a while, before managing to speak.

“My name” he said. “is Belial.” he paused. “I'm a dark angel.”

 

~

 

Those words echoed in her ears, unable to find a place to go.

_Belial._

_Dark angel._

She had often heard about dark angels, or fallen angels, who had followed Lucifer to his rebellion, who had fallen with him to Hell. Walking on Earth, taking possession of human beings, killing and feeding off the souls of those poor ones who chose to trust them.

She shivered. She _trusted_ him. And what was going to happen because of it? Death, ruin, destruction?

But at the same time, he had trusted her too. He had told her a secret which was way too much for a simple human being to bear. Did that matter?

She shivered again, thinking she wasn’t afraid of dying. Not after that kiss, where she had relinquished herself to the darkness, willingly or not.

She felt cold, as if the whole room had been swallowed by ice.

She didn’t know what to say. She struggled against herself, trying to understand how to react.

Her head told her to run, her heart to kiss him again.

And since she was a silly little girl, as he had told her, she chose the second option.

 

~

 

The second kiss was more cautious, there was nothing of the urge of the first one. And Riordan needed it. He was struggling to focus on a wide range of different things at the same time.

And like that, while he felt Briana’s skin under his fingers and could test its texture, its softness, its _warmth_ , he thought about the way she had managed to dig a hole inside of him, and how that was going to mark the destiny of one of them.

Because a death was necessary. And he didn’t know what the lesser evil was.

An insignificant human, whose name would’ve gotten lost in time, or him, one of the seven fallen angels, who had always wandered the Earth looking for souls, souls of people like her?

The decision was harder than this.

Again, he pulled away.

Kissing her while he pondered her end caused him a discomfort he couldn’t ignore.

“Say something, please.” he whispered, unable to look her in the eyes. All his bravery, his savoir faire, his charms... turned to ashes at the hands of Briana Friel, a girl like any other who owned something unique, invisible to the naked eye.

“What do you want me to say? That I suspected it? I never really believed in God, go figure how I felt about angels. That it’s not a problem?” she found the strength to smile. “It’s not, for me. But I suppose now I am for you, am I not?”

He recovered part of his attitude and frowned.

“It’s your fault. I warned you, I told you you shouldn’t have insisted, that it was going to cause only pain and death. But you didn’t want to listen.” he accused her. She shrugged, gloomy.

“What does it matter now, what I did?” she asked, her voice broken; Riordan saw her hold back even one single tear, but he realized that still there was no trace of fear in her, which bothered him even more.

“Want to stop playing the martyr? You’re closed up in a room with one of the most dangerous beings to ever walk the Earth, who’s got his hands stained of a thousand murders, and the only thing you can feel is _sorrow_?” he said, bitter.

“What would you have me do, instead? Want me to run away screaming? I don’t want to. If these are the last moments of my life, it’s with _you_ I want to spend them!” she yelled. Once she calmed down, she went on. “I knew I was facing something bigger than me. So don’t you dare impose any reaction on me, I'm here because I’ve decided to be.” he declared, proud.

“Don’t leave, then.” he said, surrendering. She pointed at the couch and they both sat down. “If, like you said, these are the last moments of your life, don’t you want to get some answers?” he asked, grinning. It was unreal how frivolously they were discussing her death.

“This body...” she caressed his arm. “Whose is it?” she asked in a whisper, sure she was about to hear a bloody story.

Riordan was surprised. He wouldn’t have thought this was going to be her first question.  

“It belonged to a vagabond in seventeenth century Paris. He didn’t have one thing in the world, but he was happy. He wandered the Earth without a real goal. I chose him because, somehow, it reminded me of myself.”

“And... where is he now?” she murmured.

“Somewhere inside of me, I reckon. But his soul has dimmed centuries ago. His rebellion didn’t last long.” he explained.

“How many bodies did you have before this one?” she went on. It was weird how she knew how creepy what he was telling her was, and how fascinated she felt instead.

“I’ve changed a few. This is the one I’ve kept the longest. I’ve also had a lot of identities, depending on where I went. I’ve been French, Spanish, Greek, Russian, American... there really isn't a nation which hasn’t been my homeland at least once, in the past thousands of years.” he said, smirking. She shook her head, incredulous.

“Until a few minutes ago I thought you were a priest. A priest with a secret, but still a priest. All this... is absurd!” she said, making him smile. Then they both got serious again, and she took advantage of it to ask a question that had been in her mind since he had told her who he truly was.

“Your... well your boss, so to say, is...” she started to say, mumbling. Riordan laughed out loud.

“Do you want to know if I'm at the service of Satan himself?” he mocked her. She gave him half a smile, then she nodded. “Lucifer, is more exact. ‘Satan’ is an Arabic word, made up centuries ago. He’s not as evil as many like to believe...” he thought about it for a while. “Us dark angels are way worse.” he clarified.

“So you would have me believe that Satan... I mean, Lucifer, isn't evil?” she asked, frowning. Riordan shrugged.

“Look at the meaning behind the names. Mine means perverted man, and my brothers’ aren't much better. He’s a bearer of light. He’s just made a choice.” he explained.

“I believe you. You should know a tad more than me.”

He stared at her, in disbelief.

“How do you do it?” he asked, in a whisper.

“What?”

“Listen to me while I speak of worlds I shouldn’t even be able to imagine, and that instead I lived. I’ve seen all you study on books, and it doesn’t bother you at all?” he asked. If she had curiosity about his existence, he had some about her mind.

“It fascinates be, even though I realize how... unreal it is.” she smiled.

Belial sighed, not at all amused by the whole situation; he got up and toward the window, his eyes lost outside.

“I’ve always liked this place. It’s a parallel universe, it makes me feel the passing of centuries less. Here time flows slower than elsewhere.”

She listened to him, captivated by the depth of his voice. When he turned around, the angel’s eyes were the saddest thing she had ever seen.

“Despair is pointless Ri... Belial.” she corrected herself, refusing to call him with a name that didn’t belong to him.

“Do you think? You say that only because you have a conscience.”

She stared at him, confused.

“So what? Wouldn’t it be worse if you had a conscience too?”

Belial shook his head.

“It’s easier to do something, no matter how atrocious, when one has a conscience pricking. It gives perspective of how deeply wrong it is.” he sighed. “For me instead, killing is as natural as breathing. I know it’s wrong because I’ve learnt that, not because I was born with that concept.” he got close to her again. “You have to die. Or I have to, Briana. Do you have any idea how much that creates me... well, qualms?” he grinned. “On one hand, is wonderful: I’ve never felt something like this during my whole existence. But on the other... I feel as if the most prevalent part of me has been stolen away.” he explained.

“You don’t have to feel guilty. Or, if I got what you mean, _believe_ you should feel guilty. I told you, it’s my fault if it’s gotten to this, I wanted to know and I chose to face the consequences of my morbid curiosity. And if the price is my soul, my own life...” she swallowed. “I think I can bear with that. There aren't too many reasons to spend time on this Earth, after all.”

“How many times have I already told you you’re not normal?” he asked, sarcastic. She smiled.

“As many as I’ve told you.”

 

~

 

The hours went by. Briana and Belial had talked about everything. He had told her a few anecdotes, he had collected quite a few of them in time, then he had asked about her life. The girl had laughed, saying that what had happened during her brief life was insignificant, a drop in the ocean.

And slowly, the night had come. And she felt her fate get closer, inexorable.

Belial saw he get gloomier; he was glad, somehow, to see her caving finally.

But that didn’t help. Death couldn’t, it didn’t _have to_ be a solution.

He decided to take some more time to decide. He needed it.

“Go home.” he told her at some point, tiredly. She looked at him curiously, but got up nonetheless.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” she asked, reluctant and hopeful at the same time. Belial nodded.

“Come here at lunchtime.”

“What’s going to happen to me?” she murmured, but the angel refused to answer her question.

He got up, turning his back on her.

“Go away.” he hissed, and she obeyed the order, getting out of the house that all in one day had caused her surprise, fascination and pain.

Belial was left alone with his thoughts.

Eight people knew his identity. Lucifer, the other six fallen angels, and a girl from Connemara.

It was absurd. And something had to be done.

He stared at the lights of the village getting turned on, while the reddish sun disappeared behind the hills.

He sighed. There was only one solution.

 

~

 

The next day, Brianna woke up early. Nightmares had haunted her for the whole night, confused images where fire blended with darkness and together they suffocated her.

Six in the morning she was up, and no idea how to spend the time she had left.

She still had six hours before meeting her destiny, and no desire to fill them. What was the point? She couldn’t do anything long term, she was going to die that day. She didn’t even want to spend time with her parents, which would’ve been logical. It hurt too much.

She laid on her bed, thinking. Everything that had happened was engraved in her mind. She found himself laughing.

It made no sense. Lucifer didn’t exist, fallen angels didn’t exist. It was all in her imagination.

It wasn’t rational.

But she had to admit than since Riordan, Belial or whoever he was had arrived there, her life had seldom been rational.

And thinking about Belial’s face, torn between the torment and serenity, she slipped into sleep again, without dreams nor nightmares.

 

~

 

The road to Belial’s house seemed less familiar that day. She tried walking it as if it was a different path, as if that wasn’t Skehana, as if she had been thrown in a different world, different like she felt.

It was cold, and she knew the weather had nothing to do with it, she saw the sun shine over the village; she understood that the cold was due to what was going to happen, that she was the only one feeling it, and surrendered to it.

The road lasted too little. When she reached her destination the time gone by seemed to have been too short.

She knocked on the door a few times, getting no answer. The door behind her opened, and the landlady walked out.

“It’s pointless for you to keep doing that, young lady. Father Behan left early this morning.” she said. Briana turned around, astonished.

“What do you mean he left?” she murmured, feeling about to faint, unable to elaborate the thousand emotions she was feeling.

“Yes.” the woman confirmed. “He left his keys with me at seven this morning, saying he needed to leave, that he was going to warn the deacon and then he was going to leave.” she explained.

Briana thanked her, confusedly, then she climbed the stairs down again.

She sat on the sidewalk; the sun was there, she ascertained again, and now the cold was gone and she could feel the warm seep inside of her. She raised her eyes to the sky and let a tear roll down her face.

The solution was there. She would’ve died, reached the afterlife. Where Belial came from.

Letting her live, meant never see her again.

She walked back toward her house. She felt the wind caress her skin, but she was sure she wasn’t going to be able to actually feel any of that ever again. She guarded a secret, a secret that was now perfectly useless to know.

And she felt fallen from grace as well.

 

~

 

Belial was walking. He was in the middle of nowhere, around him only the greenness of the grass resurrecting after too long a winter.

Nothing in the world had ever been able to force his choices; only her had managed to. And now he walked, alone and without a soul to offer to himself as nourishment.

He was starting to believe that being a dark angel was a disgrace, and not a sign of power as if he had always believe.

He was cursed, after all, and nothing else. He didn’t deserve a happy ending, she did.

Briana Friel.

At this time, she should’ve been dead already.

Instead she still walked under the sun, that star so pointlessly shiny, annoying. Belial had never liked it.

What’s the point of something one can't even watch?

She was going to forget about his existence soon, his mind told him.

His heart, if he had one at all, knew she was never going to forget him.

Human mind saved memories for so little. They were so stupid.

He smiled. She was different, and that difference had kept her alive.

 _We’re going to meet again, Briana_ he promised to her and himself.

He kept walking, letting that star blind him. The scarce clouds in the sky accompanied his journey.

They wandered, just like him.


End file.
